


Cold Blood

by DREAMYLUCIFER



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mentioned Kairi (Kingdom Hearts), Mentioned Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Mentioned Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Mentioned Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Originally Posted Elsewhere, Past Abuse, Slow To Update, Sora Lives (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas Is Bad at Feelings (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas Redemption (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas-centric (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-07 08:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DREAMYLUCIFER/pseuds/DREAMYLUCIFER
Summary: "Vantias," he's never heard anyone say his name so soft before, "I found you."





	1. Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series I created while randomly looking at tweets of our favorite boy Vanitas, and because i love him a lot and see his possible growth as a character I felt robbed when he died in KH3 so I took manners into my own hands and voila! Cold Blood was made. Sora and Vanitas are my favs, but I don't think this will be anything romantic, but if does, I'll change up the tags. So far this work is platonic, but as I go along, everything is fluid and nothing is set in stone! Please enjoy the fic. Read below if you have any requests!

There, in the shorelines of what never was, or what there will never be, he lay upon the coasts. There is no sun to kiss upon his skin nor is there premonition of it's likeness. He simply lays, watching tired waves crash upon the shoreline for the umpteenth time. Tidal waves, rather, high tides don't exist in the endless expanse of darkness – this he's come to realize as he's stood upon drowned rocks and boulders covered in moss and bones of what was life. The sea is dead here. Vanitas needs no teacher to understand this. For what else can blossom in darkness but pain and death? 

Perhaps had this never was had sun, or a light, should life had breached upon the bleakness of the neverending night; Vanitas isn't sure it could have been possible. As is, only castaways could last so long here before the haze of darkness nests inside their bones and makes a home of their helpless heart. 

But Vanitas is  **darkness, ** created and existing on the inkling of  _ his  _ sorrows and despair. But Ventus has long become an afterthought to him, pushed into the crevices of his mind that bare no significance to him any longer – but if one were to ask about his other, he'd surely mumble in anger – for their separation and departure was … 

He closes his eyes as the waves hit his legs, the coolness of the water making him shiver; here he is at peace, knowing this solace was his and his alone. His own haven hidden in the shadows that scatter beyond the light. A  **home** . The waves hit his legs again, this time lighter than before. Footsteps become apparent with a disturbance in the water's quiet, and Vanitas struggles to open his eyes, to leave the calm. 

He knows him. Of course he does; his face was an exact replica of his, but yet he was softer, brighter than Vanitas. Sora looks somewhat curious, staring down at him with a sparkle in his deep blue eyes that almost makes Vanitas want to run. Neither move, though, neither speak. They stare into the depths of each other's eyes for answers to questions that had come untold, but alas, Sora breaks the silence.

"Vanitas", he's never heard anyone say his name so  **soft** before, "I found you."


	2. Scene 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concept is entirely new to him: to want for himself.

"Where 're we goin'?" He knows Sora won't answer him. They've been walking over grassy landscapes for the past several hours - maybe minutes, Vanitas has no way of time aside from the shadows the sun casts - with no means of stopping. The only response he gets from the brunette is another shrug as he continues treading on forward. Vanitas sighs. 

It's not particularly what he had in mind when Sora had found him on the cold coasts of what never had been or will be, but Sora's never-ending persistence and bullheaded stubbornness had managed to coax him to follow him somewhere, anywhere. Really, he had no clue as to why he felt the need to trail after him, but Vanitas had nothing to lose anymore. He had nothing left but his pain and despair and if Sora had planned to end his miserable life far away, so be it. So he followed. 

"We're getting close, don't worry too much!" Sora says with glee as Vanitas mumbles. The other boy pauses briefly as if to look around, only to bend down and unfasten his shoes. It baffles Vanitas to watch him remove his shoes, as if the concept of walking barefoot on grass was foreign to him. Sora pays him no mind and hums a tune to himself. When he's done, he turns to Vanitas curiously. "You're not gonna take off your shoes?" 

"They're…" Vanitas shuffles as something settles into his chest, something he's not quite sure he's felt before as his cheeks heat up under curious scrutiny, "sort of attached to my suit." He avoids looking into those bright blue eyes while the heat on his face worsens. 

Sora, so oblivious to any inclination or inkling of Vanitas experiencing embarrassment for the first time in his life, thinks. "Isn't hot in that suit, though?" He hadn't ever thought about his suit until then. It was skin tight, created along with him upon his separation from Ventus. The design of it was beautiful, but just as most things were for him, it was painful and intolerable to be in for longer periods than necessary. However, he hadn't exactly removed it from himself entirely. 

"I guess it hurts when it chafes." 

"Then why do you wear it?" Vanitas sputters indignantly at the question while Sora continues to look at him. "If it hurts, why not just wear something else?" 

He has to be joking. "There are several reasons  **why ** I haven't, and in case you haven't noticed, there's no shops here!" He flinches whist Sora pinches at his suit, pulling and releasing the material and letting it hit his already raw skin underneath. Another bubbling, foreign sensation stirs in his chest as Sora circles around his form in thought; with Xehanort there had never been concerns focused solely on him – unless the x-blade was the topic at hand – his main objective was always to follow his Master's whims and wishes. But now Xehanort is gone and Vanitas is alone, and he can want and wish and all those pleasant things. The concept is entirely new to him: to  **want ** for  **himself. **

"I have an idea", the brunette grins at Vanitas while he summoned his keyblade, "but I'm not sure how it'll work." Vanitas mentally face-palms. 

Sora tosses his keyblade between gloves hands, mumbling briefly as he points the giant key to Vanitas. He shrinks significantly back at the sudden movement; is Sora really going to get rid of him because of his suit? "Wh—"

Sora interrupts him with a crooked smile, "Maybe I can use my keyblade to make you a new outfit."

"...Is that even remotely possible?" He can't argue with the other boy's idea, he himself didn't know the true extent of magics a keyblade had within itself, but he does question the logistics behind it.

"I'm not sure! But I won't hurt you, I promise!" The promise is somewhat reassuring. He's not used to not being hurt or threatened, but even yet with a promise, he doesn't know if he can entirely afford to place his trust in Sora.

"Alright...how exactly do you plan to do this?" He should've known better than to ask; Sora's keyblade sparkles as it's point aims directly for Vanitas's chest. 

"Just hold still!"

" **Sora? SORA–!" **


	3. Scene 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange, he thinks, he's never felt so much want to touch another person in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas and Sora have reached Scada al Caelum...but Vanitas is suffering from heat stroke and touch deprivation.

The first time Sora touched him, he flinched. His brain was hardwired to understand the agony that came with touch; the hitting and kicking and bruising blooms of purple on pale skin was unfortunately a normal part of his existence. Perhaps he's become perpetually terrified of touching other people and vise versa. However, Sora's touch was unlike the cruel touches he's felt before. His hand holds his as Vanitas falls by a white brick wall of the buildings, brushing his hair softly as Vanitas vomits his stomach's worth. The searing heat surrounding their bodies somehow dissipates into the cool of the breeze; he doesn't want to release the other boy's hand quite just yet. 

White terracotta rooftops bake in Scada al Caelum as callous feet mark the dirty brick roads below. The breeze isn't consistent, Vanitas notes, as he wipes his chin with the back of his white glove. The entire outfit fiasco had been solved with a keyblade after all; his outfit is the mirror opposite of Sora's – while the brunette adorned black and red with gold embellishments, he wears white and blue with silver embellishments. Sora whines at Vanitas staining his glove. Their hands are still interlocked as another wave of nausea hits him.

Sora kneels beside him with a frown on his face, displeased but...worried. "Do you wanna go inside? There's probably some beds in one of these buildings." The suggestion is one he's grateful for as he curls up into himself again and vomits onto the paths. 

"Please." He heaves as saliva falls across his chin. It's all he can manage as Sora ever so gently wraps an arm around him, allowing him extra support while they shuffle into one of the many buildings in the vast kingdom of white they find shelter in. The room is illuminated by sunlight and lamps hanging from the ceiling that twirl with the passing breeze. There's no glass in the windows, but the building is cooler in temperature than the outside. Its sparse of any furniture save for a small couch and a chair. To the far right is a door leading to another room. 

"I'm going to look for a bucket", Sora explains as he carefully places Vanitas on the cream colored couch, "I'll be right back." Vanitas all but whines at the loss of the other's comfort and heat, disentangling himself from Sora's side and arms almost  **hurt. ** But Sora only chuckles and smiles, petting his hair aside to keep it from his face, "I'll be back soon. Don't worry!" 

Strange, he thinks, he's never felt so much want to touch another person in his life. Vanitas watches him leave with tears and desperation flooding his chest and blurring his sight.


	4. Scene 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock inside him keeps ticking louder and louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, this time with Vanitas and his growing anxiety.

The night is cold, resembling the chill of what never was and what never will be. Vanitas is thankful for the coolness as he stirs on the bed sheets below him; it had been some time since he had passed out, Sora returning to his unconscious figure lying uncomfortably on the white couch of the building they previously took shelter in, and moved him to another building further along the sunbaked palace. This one, Vanitas realizes, was much different. It was more extravagant, elegant, fit for a prince under the cable carts and terracotta rooftops.

The building itself is bigger, covered in glistening tile under the moonlight while its hall is spacious, lined with many rooms and empty picture frames. He pauses at the door frame as he let's his eyes wander, trying to pinpoint where Sora would be sleeping. Vanitas knew Sora somewhat well enough to guess he was in the room right in front of his, but something in the back of his mind scolded him, telling him to forget it and go back to his own bed and rest. Vanitas, though, was stubborn.

His fingers twitched as his feet moved on their own accord, grasping the gold doorknob and then holding still. A strange bubbling feeling bubbled in his chest again as he stared at the white door in front of him; strange, there was a mild beating sound from his chest— although, mild would not be the right word, it was a fast beating sound— as he thought over the consequences of what he was about to do. There were many things that could happen and many that wouldn't, for instance: Sora could get angry and tell him to leave him alone; Vanitas knows Sora would never do that, he's got a bleeding heart, much too heavy to carry on his sleeve. Or, Vanitas would open the door to an empty room. Maybe Sora isn't even with him anymore, leaving him to rot in Scala ad Caelum.

Vanitas is frozen in place with his mind racing rapidly, eyes welling up with tears that threaten to spill as the bubbles in his chest begin to pop. The next few minutes pass as a blur as he collapses on his knees, shaking under the ache that washes over him– he's lost in a flood of this  **something** and it  **hurts ** oh so bad. There's a clock ticking in Vanitas's head and he's sure he's about to burst.

He doesn't know how long he sit there, body curling in on itself, until he feels warmth cradling him from every corner; there's a soothing touch that calms the waves of his torment and a silky voice that calls out from the bellowing thunder of agony that stirs in the depths of his soul that make him feel light. The unease slips away into the night as hands coax him to his feet and help him stumble onto something soft, the warmth never leaving his side as he finally let's the voice carry him into a dreamless sleep.

The clock inside him keeps ticking louder and louder.

**Author's Note:**

> For requests, you can leave them in my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/rengokulovebot), [twitter](https://twitter.com/FAEDEMYX) or in the comments. Please leave kudos and comments! Thank you!


End file.
